


R & R

by trillingstar



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Military, Pre-Canon, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Zipless Fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the additional tags don't fill you in...</p><p>Marine!Stabler's rested but needs relaxation.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	R & R

Stabler gulps down the last few swallows of his fourth beer and sets the bottle down on the table. He should slow down unless he wants to spend the duration of leave puking his guts out, but shit, it feels good to let loose, take the Marines stick outta his ass, to pretend for five minutes like he ain't got a care in the world.

Actually he's got one pressing need, and it's not getting home to Kathy in one piece or figuring out what the fuck he's going to do when he gets back. He joined up for the GI Bill, because there's no way he was going to apply to the Academy to walk a beat the rest of his life. Now he wants to go up in space. So that part's planned; he has to make enough to support Kathy - and he smiles, thinking about her - and the kids that he's eager to have, later, further down the road when he's training, flying, when they've got the money for family vacations and good schools.

That's not what he's thinking about now, though, because he's spent the past three months elbows to noses with the rest of his unit and he loves 'em, but he's so goddamn sick of them he'd just as soon punch one of his brothers in the face as look at him.

He's from a huge family, so he's used to the chaos, even if he was the baby. They'd all left by the time he was in elementary school, off to marriage, work, kids of their own, but they came back for Sunday dinners and Thanksgiving. Sometimes they ended up with pizza instead of pot roast, if his mom wasn't feeling up to cooking, but whatever, it was still a pack, a huddle, there were still brothers to wrestle with and sisters to tease and once a week it felt like a real family.

The transition into the Marines was easy. Training beat the shit out of him and he slept like the dead, nothing bad and nothing wonderful, no nightmares about gunshots or falling, but also no dreams about the first time Kathy took off all of her clothes or the time they made love outdoors.

Stabler groans, closing his eyes, remembering how she'd unbuttoned her shirt so goddamned slowly he'd wanted to lunge at her and rip the fabric away from her skin. She teased each button out of its hole with shyness and desire warring in her eyes and he'd had to grab his dick and run football plays in his head.

His hand slides down under the table, down his leg, resting on his upper thigh and he thinks about licking Kathy's tiny pink nipples until she pushed at his shoulder and finally pulled his hair to get him to come up for a kiss. He shifts on the high stool, hooking his ankle around one of the struts, his thighs moving apart. Then there's a boisterous roar from the crowd by the bar and his eyes pop open. He remembers that he's at a bar with a hundred jarheads and sailors, all of whom are intent on letting loose too, and this isn't a show he wants to share with any of 'em.

There are women, too, whores, but he doesn't have money for that. All he needs right now is a wet, warm mouth, lips wrapped around his dick, a little suck. The way he feels right now he'll probably shoot in about three minutes, so it's not like there's gotta be a real connection.

There's a guy in their unit who's queer as a three-dollar bill featuring a picture of Madonna. There's a standing invitation, because sometimes stuff happens and that's all it is, but there's no way that Stabler would let himself get caught up like that, not even for just a friendly hummer in the john. Everyone would know. Shit like that would hurt his career, his chances for scholarships, for becoming a pilot.

But Christ, he's never been so horny, not even when he thought his balls were going to shrivel up and fall off 'cause they hurt so much, before Kathy let him push inside her. He'd felt like shit when she'd cried, even as his body begged for more. Now, his hand on his dick every morning in the shower isn't anywhere near enough.

Stabler signals for another beer. He'll find someone here, someone he'll never see again, and it'll be fine. A mouth is a mouth. Mikey says so, and his best friend's no liar.

The waitresses look old enough to have come with the place, and when one slams a bottle down on the table in front of him, he gives her a good tip since it's his last one. He knows what it's like slinging brews to a bunch of kids hyped up on liquor and adrenalin.

She pockets the bills, favors Stabler with a tired half-smile and wheels around, nearly crashing into the guy hovering closely by her elbow. He looks really young, thin, jeans sagging on his hips. He's wearing a white polo and hi-tops, and it's hard to tell what camp he hails from, no visible tats, hair buzzed down to the quick just like everybody else. He moves out of the waitress's path, and then he's coming closer, pulling a stool from under the bar, dragging it over, and plunking his bottle of beer on the tabletop.

Stabler glares at him.

The kid blinks at him with a pair of big blues, eyeing Stabler appraisingly. "Hey," he says, sitting down on the stool.

"Hey," Stabler replies warily.

They drink without talking further, glancing at one another occasionally, and Stabler lets his gaze linger on the kid's long fingers wrapped around the thickest part of the beer bottle. The kid licks his lips and Stabler's cock throbs and he knows he's found his mouth.

~

The guy wants to go to a motel. There's one a couple blocks away that rents rooms by the hour, but now that Stabler knows it's a sure thing, he can't wait.

"It's on me," the kid says confidently, as though he's got a hundred bucks stuffed down his pants. "We can go anywhere you want."

He runs his hand down Stabler's side, fingers brushing close to the round curve of ass that invites touch.

Acting on reflex, Stabler shoves the kid away, hard, watching him stumble, narrowly avoiding crashing into a parking meter. And then the guy comes right back, hands clenched in fists at his sides, and Stabler notices how the cotton of the guy's tee stretches across his arms. The kid might be thin, but he's not weak.

"The hell was that for," he demands, leaning in close.

Stabler licks his lips and tastes the guy's breath, beer and indignation. Lust.

He stands up straight and pushes the guy again. They move into the side street between blocks, behind businesses that are closed for the evening, down into shadows where the last bits of light from the street lamps barely reach. The kid moves backward the whole time, and Stabler's impressed with his surefootedness. In the bar, the lights made the kid's hair look blond, golden; now, it's browner, but the deep blue eyes are the same, and Stabler can't look away as he stalks closer, glowering harder so he won't groan when he sees how much the guy's liking this: his body twists and arches every time he takes a step, showing off, taunting.

They exchange brief smiles.

They hit the wall sooner than Stabler had anticipated, and he shoves the kid up against the dirty bricks and holds him there. His heart feels as if it's going to pound out of his chest. His cock's hard and eager and suddenly he feels dangerous.

He tips his head and take a slow breath, a long exploration of scent.

He raises his head. "'m not a charity case," he whispers against the guy's mouth, and their bodies jerk and push as their lips brush. The guy writhes against him, pushing back, rubbing. He's panting against Stabler's mouth.

"Suck me," Stabler orders, his voice low, and the kid moans softly.

They trade places, Stabler leaning back slowly, feeling the kid's fingers unzipping his fly, rubbing through the denim and then the cotton of his underwear. His cock feels thick, fiery hot, and still he wants the heat of the kid's mouth, wants it right the hell now. He pushes the kid down, pops the button himself, and helps ease his cock out.

The guy leans forward and Stabler slides over to where the streetlamp shines a few shades brighter, forcing the guy to follow on his knees, shuffling in the dirt. Now Stabler can watch. He's impatient to see the kid's throat working around him, the slack of his jaw and saliva smeared on his cheeks from rubbing his face all over Stabler's dick.

He arches an eyebrow at the kid's upward glance, tilts his head.

Neither of them move for a few long seconds and then Stabler grabs the kid's face, holding his chin immobile; with the other hand he fists his cock, pushing against the kid's mouth and the guy looks up at him with the most smoldering look Stabler's ever seen on anyone. Even Olivia Newton-John in leather pants can't compare. The guy's mouth seems to open in slow motion and then Stabler's inside, pushing forward, and there's suction and slick and he cracks his head on the wall. He pants through his nose as the pain subsides, looking down, staring at the kid's lips stretching around his girth. He watches the kid's eyes squeeze shut and then open. He watches the kid swallow around the cock in his mouth, and then the kid looks up.

"Jesus," Stabler breathes out.

The kid's kneading Stabler's thighs, running his hands up to Stabler's ass and back down again. His shoulders are relaxed, not hunched. He's done this before.

Stabler watches the kid's head bobbing forward. Filtered through the shadow of the alley, the light from the street shines weakly, outlining the kid's hand laying heavy on Stabler's thigh. He has the irrational urge to stroke the kid's cheek and instead he squeezes his hand around the kid's jaw tighter, holding his head still.

The guy doesn't complain. The flat of his tongue rubs along the underside of Stabler's cock, stroking back and forth, and Stabler thrusts and shudders. He lets go of the kid's face and slides his hand back, cupping the kid's skull and then he pushes his hips forward in a steady demand for more throat. He's not surprised when he gets it, the kid mouthing the skin at the base of Stabler's cock. He's warm enough that sweat prickles at the back of his neck. The guy's tongue slips around him in a rhythm that Stabler can't anticipate.

"Yeah," he whispers.

The guy grunts softly, his breath fluttering warmly against Stabler's belly and already he's feeling the familiar tightness in his balls. He looks down at the crown of the kid's head and his stomach clenches. Stabler drags his hand around to the kid's jaw and then further down, touching the side of the kid's neck, palming the column of his throat. He feels the bump where his cock is, and his body shakes as he comes, thighs flexing taut. He muffles a cry behind bitten lips, pushing his dick in as far as he can, uncaring if the guy can take it or if he's being too rough.

His arms fall to his sides. He floats back into coherency, becoming aware of a warm tongue lapping at his balls, long slow licks up and down his dick, and then the guy moves closer, sucking gently on Stabler's skin, nuzzling into the hair there. When the guy stands up, he smiles, an aggressive edge to the satisfied expression. His cheeks are shiny with spit. Stabler reaches impulsively, scratching lightly at the kid's head, feeling the familiar prickle of short hair against his fingers. He stares at the kid's mouth, the puffy lips and flushed skin, and he grins as his dick takes notice again. He tucks his shirt back in and zips.

The guy's voice is gravelly when he speaks. "Gonna return the favor?" he rasps, eyes gleaming with anticipation and desire.

Stabler stares at him, then shakes his head slowly.

The guy's expression turns stormy. "Asshole," he growls, spitting out the word.

Stabler catches him by the wrist before he can turn away. He pulls, and they stare at each other as the guy lets himself be pulled forward reluctantly. He still looks pissed. Stabler jerks him in fast, catching him off-guard, and then flips them quickly, pinning the guy against the wall. There's no struggle but Stabler holds him there to the count of ten anyway, one shoulder pushing hard, a boot between the guy's feet. He squeezes the guy's dick through his jeans, then rubs up and down twice and the guy's head lolls back, his mouth open on a sigh.

Stabler ducks his head, pressing his face against the sweaty skin of the guy's neck. He smells like spunk. Stabler reaches into the guy's jeans and pushes his underwear down. Quickly, he raises his hand to the guy's face, his brain kicking into gear when the guy controls a wince. Stabler moves, lifting his head to catch the guy's expression. His eyes clear after a split second, but Stabler knows that look. It's one thing to push a guy around when it's something they both want, and it's another to hurt him on purpose. Carefully, he lets his shoulders fall, rearranging his stance, projecting non-threatening body language. He stretches out his fingers, cups his hand slightly, and stares at the guy as he licks his palm, curling his tongue against his upper lip.

The guy relaxes, quivers, and Stabler shoves his hand into the guy's jeans and jerks him off fast using short, tight strokes, leaning in to press the guy against the wall again, though not as hard as before. Tucking his chin against the guy's shoulder, Stabler listens to him panting, feels him squirming and trying to thrust forward, but he doesn't have the leverage.

It feels the same as if he's jerking himself off, but there's the added bonus of giving someone else pleasure. Stabler grins, pushes his nose against the guy's neck, and sticks his tongue out for a taste.

"Oh," the guy says, like he's surprised.

"Yeah," Stabler says, encouragingly.

"Oh," the guy says again, this time with more conviction. He grabs Stabler's arm, clutching tight, and then comes with a groan.

Stabler keeps his head down until the hand on his bicep relaxes its grip. He draws himself up to full height, squares his shoulders, and looks down his nose at the guy, fully intending to clap him on the back and walk away. He's extending his arm when he notices the guy's nipples poking against the cotton of his t-shirt. Stabler changes direction and touches the backs of his fingers to the hard nub of a nipple.

The guy licks his lips. "I got a place," he whispers.

Stabler stares at him, hard. The guy doesn't flinch or break eye contact, and his languid pose against the wall is open, inviting.

"I got two days off," he says finally. "Show me."  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for wildcard square: anonymous sex at kink_bingo (DW).


End file.
